running with wolves
by How Cookie Crumbles
Summary: ... what are merry little heroes and glass-like thieves made of? — #xgent #charstudy
1. cracked

**running with wolves (I)  
 _cracked_  
**

It had seemed easy enough – she was to aid alongside the Teen Titans and provide the most she could in such short notice.

 _Two days notice_ to be exact.

Argent isn't normally the kind to pass by major cities for the fun of it; to be frank, she had been on her way over here to Jump as _vacation_ from the hero stuff, not to deal with _more_ of it. She hadn't been lying when she'd told them that she was known as a type of hero in her town, but she just didn't deal with _insane_ villains. The common thief or escaped juvie was as far experience as she'd gone. Punk Rocket was the craziest she'd encounter, _before_ the Brotherhood, anyway. That's how she _likes_ it. But two days isn't at all enough time to acquaint herself with the villains here. Reluctant to admit it to herself, but the truth was that ever since the incident with those guys, with the _Brotherhood of Evil,_ it was like her whole performance was starting to plummet downhill.

Within the very night she arrived, she had encountered that fat nerd – _Freak_ or _Freaking Control_ or something of the sort; _humiliating_. Giant metal tentacles had wrapped her lithe form, her red plasma not being able seep through – not enough for her to break free, and after her failure at reaching his remote, she had to sit out for a bit to recover. There was a sound of a deep guttural _snarl_ – and _not_ the aggressive kind either. Before she'd known what was going on, the fat tub of lard had sauntered next to her, despite Argent trying to _escape_. "Hey _so,_ " He slicked his _disgusting_ greasy hair back in an attempt that she assumed was trying to _impress_ her. "You're pretty _freaky_ – what say after this whole thing, you ditch the Titan dorks, and we could-" She didn't let him finish, bile already leaking to the front of her mouth just by _smelling_ him. But despite that, the dolt was close to _literally_ crushing her bones. She may very well have not been completely human, but she wasn't immortal either; she couldn't feel her darn _limbs_ for the next two hours after nearly getting crushed. After insisting relentlessly that she would be okay, she had been sorely beaten yet _again_ when they encountered a giant clay-like muddy... _monster thing._ Getting _goo_ in places where she'd never imagined had been quite the... experience. More so than when she'd been nearly crushed, _slammed_ onto the concrete floors – had it not been for her slight red shield around her head, she was sure she probably wouldn't have survived. It continued on with every other crime after. Her coordination was poor, her powers were not providing the viable help she tried to use it for, and her performance was just lousy overall.

Argent is slipping – and she is _painfully_ aware of it.

 _Its only two days_ is the only type of consolation she really needs though. _Two days._ She… somehow miraculously convinces Robin that she's going to be _fine_ and reassures him constantly that she _won't_ slip.

It works only marginally. She's surprised he doesn't outright deny her; but the pensive look on his face, even with wearing the mask and all, makes her wonder for the first what he _really_ thinks of her and her abilities. Apparently, a good deal. At least, thankfully, at least she's shown a visual of all these guys so she can at least get a _hint_ of familiarity should she need to point them out. She and Robin had come to an understanding at some point – get her as familiar as possible with as many villains as she could possibly take in. She'd lost count as to how much time they've spent standing in front of their monitor, with her pointing to every single man, woman, person or _thing_ that looked remotely interesting – which, she found out, were a whole _lot_ of them.

"And.. who is _that_ bloke?" Argent says, pointing blatantly into one of the many faces of the screen on the giant computer. It had only been until now that she realized just how _small_ her city's level of crime was compared to Jump City. At her question, she's surprised to find out Robin's abrupt change in demeanor. "Friend of yours, I'm assuming?"

Her attention is drawn to him once more. "Something like that." His tone is rather harsh, and this gets her to wince slightly, and before she can say anything, it's Starfire that steps in, as if sensing the oncoming distress. Ever the savior, ever the peacemaker.

"The Red X has been a thorn in our side for a while." The red head grimaces slightly, remembering actively when he had to _gall_ to try to flirt with her.

"That's kind of an understatement." Comes the dry remark from Raven; Argent hadn't even realized the others were near or remotely interested in their conversation. "I'd say he's more than _just_ a thorn."

This causes Argent to arch a brow. "Am I… missing something here? The tension in the room is a little much." The Titans stay quiet, and nobody says anything for a few moments. _Tough crowd._ Robin, though still tense, manages to calm himself and he relaxes visibly.

"It's nothing – just know that some bad guys here aren't taken so lightly. More so than others." However, as it stands, Robin also can't ignore the fact that he was _aided_ by Red X – there is respect there, a semblance of comradeship. But he shrugs it off – he is a criminal. At least, that's what he told himself time and time again. It isn't supposed to be complicated – there is good and there is evil. But Red X had managed to somehow interweave the two, and Robin doesn't exactly know what to make of that, so he's left it be. "He hasn't been active for a while now – I wouldn't worry about him."

This does little to sate Argent's curiosity, but something tells her that she should pick and prod any further, given his body language. Her gaze lingers for a few more seconds on the one called 'Red X', before shifting away to another guy. She points again, "How about this one? Seems like my type."

"That's Johnny Rancid."

 **( &. )**

 _Make more friends,_ she'd said. _Be more social,_ she'd said, _and travel. Avoid your mother at all costs_ is more like it, more truthful. Factual.

And now, she's paying the price for it.

After relentlessly and _insisting_ to Robin that she'd be _perfectly_ fine the next two days, and that _yes, she knows where everything is_ and _she'd make sure to call if anything pops up_ and _that she'd keep him updated,_ **finally** they depart, and she was left with the appropriate keys to the Tower for temporary access.

"Alright, West-side has cleared. Gonna go ahead and take care of the rest. I believe that should be it for the night; is that alright?" She waits, and then after a beat of silence: "Care to give a girl a clue, now? Was there anything else you wanted me to look over?" She takes precise care in not to hold the communicator too close to her lips; she doesn't want to mess up her meticulously applied lipstick despite the hard wind slapping her face and practically peeling her eyelids back. Still nothing but utter radio noise.

And then finally, _"Noted. Continue on; it's a simple in and out._ _N_ _othing exciting."_ She comes to a halt, hovering there; she's too engrossed in taking in her surroundings to care for the pensive, if not awkward, pause that follows. _"Thanks again, Argent, you didn't have to do this. I know you're not exactly_ _t_ _here for the hero work,_ _and it's not like we really gave you any backup._ _"_ The girl blows crimson strands out of her field vision, exasperated. _"_ _You know, you_ _can_ _always access backup from Titans East; they're much closer than we are at this point, should you need anything—"_

Eugh. "I uh, took care of a couple of brutes; Control Freak—" she shudders at the sheer mention of his name on her lips. "… and that Plasmus guy. Nothing I couldn't handle." oh how she feels the obvious discrepancy in that one (and she knows Robin does too, he saw, after all. They all did). " _I don't need back-up,"_ she never had back in her home in New Zealand; she isn't about to start asking for help now. Argent sucks in a breath to calm her own irritation and is careful to not let the sound bleed onto the T-Com, letting it out as a small sigh. "Look, _I know_ , Robin; it's called _free will,_ or something, I'm sure. I _wanted_ to. Don't worry about it. Really; I don't _mind_ taking care of your Tower and Jump for just _two_ days. I work best alone, anyways, you know that. I wouldn't be top dog back home for nothing." She's surprised, though, that they hadn't assembled a full on back up team to reside while they were away; it's none of her concern, and she doesn't find it within herself to care. Who else could they get on such short notice? _"_ _I got it, mate._ In and out." She says absentmindedly, her attention not being given fully, already more than bored with this conversation; she had stopped just a few moments before, letting herself hover over the docks, enjoying the sound of the water. She tries not to let the annoyance be apparent.

Thankfully, Robin doesn't seem to notice. _"Right."_

"Right," she repeats pointedly, glad to move on. "I'll get to the finishing the report logs once I'm done here. Argent out." She nods, despite not needing to and cuts the conversation short and shutting off the T-Com. The humidity from the great speed at which she has flown is not the reason for why glistening pearls have gathered to the base of her forehead, but she tries to convince herself so. It's been a very _crummy_ day. "Well, the town on the far east isn't going to take view of itself," she sighs, relenting, and takes off. She tells herself this is a favor to a friend. _Her friends._ Teammates. _Whatever._ She tries not to feel sick right then and there, trying to convince herself that her care is _genuine._ On a surface, level, she supposes it is. She tries not to think about Robin with a nice, certain red-haired, pretty alien girl, and she tries not to compare herself. Argent can only try. Grunting, she flies faster. The cold air hits her face like small daggers – ironically enough, however, Argent feels _alive._ Heart throbbing almost _painfully_ against her ears, and she pays no mind to the slight drizzle. She didn't get sick so easily, anyway – she has no problem checking the coordinates of whatever possible crimes are going on as she flies rapidly through Jump City's dark skies. Right before she had left, Robin reassured her _over and over again_ that if she were in any danger or in need of back up, to _never_ hesitate to send out an S.O.S to her fellow Titans, local heroes. She scoffs.

 _Right..._ _heroes_ _._

Just the mere thought of the word leaves a bitter trail in her mouth and thoughts, but she dismisses it as soon as the communicator starts alerting her, beeping frantically. It's stating that there's danger right up ahead, very nearby.

This… hasn't really happened before.

Sure, it… _alerts_ her when there's trouble, but it doesn't go _crazy_ like this. Perhaps if she knew more on how to work this bloody thing, she'd know _what_ exactly is the trouble. She's never bothered to _read_ it before. A moment passes, and she allows herself to freeze in uncertainty; the timing was _impeccable_. However, emboldened by this sudden challenge, _a challenge she is most certainly willing to accept to prove herself,_ she silences the communicator and puts it back in her pocket.

She's ready. She can take it.

She hopes.

 **( &. )**

Argent arrives no longer than five minutes; pretty impressive time, if she does say so herself. This isn't the kind of place she had expected. A museum, a bank, a _store._

Not on the near outskirts of Jump; not in the city's south end.

Not in an abandoned warehouse facility.

The young pale teenager slowly makes her way down – her platform shoes hit the ground, filled with nothing more than gravel. Checking for the communicator once more to confirm its' location, she looks around. The first thing she notices is a barbed wire fence – and from the looks of it, she thinks distastefully, hasn't even been remotely touched in the slightest. Her lips frown and she approaches the building closer, taking in a more careful look. There isn't anything around or really touched to raise suspicion, which is what the offender probably wants. With a huff, she flies over with ease, being slow out of weariness and suspicion rather than exhaustion or hesitance. She wants to take her time with this, make sure she doesn't mess anything up – she has to be _smart_ not hasty. Going through the door is easy enough, and she expects there to be security – _something_ to serve as an obstacle, but her suspicion rises even more when she notices there's nothing of the sort. Her face scrunches, nose wrinkling at the heavy chemical stench emitting from, what she realizes is, a laboratory. The place is well built, and so far, she's seen nothing thus far that would indicate any type of break in. So why does the blasted communicator insist there is? Either her communicator is jammed, or whoever _is_ in here is _really_ good at not being messy.

She feels the urgent vibration in her pocket, and her heart nearly stops. _Again with the ringing?_

The girl shakes her head, and deciding to just be done with it, she flies full speed forward and forms a giant red sledgehammer to break the rusty, heavy doors open. She's ready for any bullets or an onslaught of some offense. Loose dust flies everywhere, and her eyes water. She coughs and wheezes,

and _waits._

No attack. No people. Nothing.

Something _clicks_ though; it's so _faint_ and kind of… far. Once the dust clears away, Argent narrows her eyes at the light noise from the far left, trying to focus on her hearing and on that _one_ sound – her senses are delicate, and a second passes.

… _.running!_

Quickly, she follows the source, making sure not to make herself heard – after all, two can play at this game. Just because she gave herself _away_ already doesn't mean she has to _stay_ that way. She knows she's not imagining things – it's more than obvious someone is in this building. Her fists clench as she _feels_ she's getting closer to the perpetrator, her vision slightly flashing due to the lack of lights in these rooms. Levitating herself slightly off the ground so as not to make noise, her adrenaline runs high, nearly _pounding_ her ears.

Whoever they are, they're _fast._

She's taking too many turns and twists. It's all hallway, not at all illuminated by the moon outside. It's too similar to a hospital, and perhaps it's something _raw_ within her, but she's feeling _cold._ The rapid footsteps are echoing in her head, and she tries to blindly focus on that; _don't let your vision roam. Focus!_ She pushes herself a little faster, tries to not let the pounding of her heart smother over the echoes.

She's _hunting_ tonight.

Panic settles in when all noise suddenly cuts off, and she freezes. She closes her eyes, and inhales.

Argent comes to an abrupt halt after taking a harsh right turn; the gut feeling in her stomach _pulls_ her here. Before deciding to _break_ yet another door, refusing to continue this little goose chase, she instead crouches down, hand on the door handle as she inhales steadying herself. After a few moments, her eyes peer through the screened window of the door, having a hard time adjusting her sight – nothing but darkness. Emptiness. But a slight movement makes her squint, and it all comes together; like a domino effect. She makes out a dark figure, couching _,_ _hiding_. She sucks in her teeth – a habit of pure annoyance – before breaking the door open with a crimson fist, momentarily forgetting any notion of _stealth_ but she supposes it doesn't matter considering they are already on the defense. They move quickly, and for a good few moments, all she sees is a black blur – for a second, they are still, and Argent barely makes their voice out.

"… you're _new._ "


	2. chase

**running with wolves (II)  
** _ **chase**_

The voice comes out dry, almost disinterested. It's a male voice, she's sure now; it's _unmistakable_. Altered, but recognizable enough. She's sure her heart almost _stops_ just from the sheer surprise, but she collects herself in the next second, face turning into an outright scowl. Gathering red plasma in her fists, Argent's eyes narrow as her vision settles – _black_ is what she mainly sees along with the bright white mask, slits for eyes. But, funny enough, what _really_ stands out are the red X's slashed across his chest and forehead. They stand like that for a few seconds, as if sizing the other one up, a challenge, a _mutual confusion_. She's not sure what he's thinking; she can barely make out that he's even _looking_ at her. He doesn't look particularly defensive, just _startled._

… but then she feels the ripple in the air before it even occurs.

Her mouth twitches, and from pure instinct alone, she's barely dodging an X shaped blade as it snips her hair. " _Tch –_ a coward, then?" she mutters, more to herself to stash away as a mental note – surely seems like the type. Argent strikes, her face absolute livid, _fierce,_ as bright red beams shoot out in his direction from her hands. It should be _hard_ to hit _one_ person, especially if they're _human._ But something is amiss here, and she sees it… _I_ _s he teleporting?!_ This prompts her to shoot even more red plasma beams at him, though, she is careful to try and not hit anything in the room that looks like it could explode, which, technically, could be anything in this whole building. "And just what do you think you're _doing_ , you bloody tool? _Would you stop moving so I can hit you?_ " She spits out in annoyance at the fact he easily evades her moves. He dodges her offensive strikes with surprising ease, and the more he does so, the more annoyed she becomes. Having enough of this little game, she tries to give a deafening blow; crimson plasma glows nearly blindingly bright in her palms, her even eyes tinting slightly red with the concentration she has to use. She throws a punch, meaning for her plasma to resonate and echo her movements.

Except a flying projectile encases her wrist before she can throw it properly, and the red fist is flown backwards, destroying the wall behind them instead. The plasma had lingered on her palms before they were thrown, and so her hands _hurt…_ _badly..._

She thinks she hears a chuckle; she isn't sure _what_ she hears over the sound of her own pained gasp. Her hands are trembling, feeling almost stiff; she can't even clench them properly.

"You look like you're past curfew. What? Jump's favorite do-gooders couldn't _afford_ a proper babysitter?" At this, she _growls_ as a response, frowning at the word 'kid'. She levitates off the floor – concentrating, two giant red hands form as they intertwine and smash the intruder, but her shaky hands probably don't help. A moment passes, and she blinks, realizing that she hadn't felt anything underneath her energy constructs. Wincing at the damages done to the crumbling facility already, Argent disperses her constructs, inching closer to the debris, squinting her eyes. "Did I get him...?" She wonders to herself.

Big mistake.

"Not _quite,_ I'm afraid." She doesn't even have time to turn around at his words that are _so close to her neck,_ before she is pinned to the wall with a type of... _sticky_ substance. No matter how much she struggles, she's held in place – as if the giant red 'X' shaped construct is somehow getting tighter the more she struggles. "I'm guessing you're not really from around this city, given that accent of yours." His tone is laced with amusement; the thief deems appropriate to just _saunter_ there like she's not even a fly on the wall.

She's just _chopped liver._

First impressions aren't exactly going well. "Go choke on a bone! You're daft thinking I'm going to let you get away!" Robin _trusted_ her with this – she _won't_ fail this! Red X looks at her, it irritates her that she can't even get a _semblance_ of what he's thinking.

She doesn't know why pity is the first thing to cross her mind.

As if she's lost her luster, like some _animal_ in a bloody zoo, he steps away; not even glancing at her. Had he been deliberately keeping her focus in once place? The mere thought makes her feel like some… some _petulant_ child. It's _humiliating;_ she tries to tell herself that's _not_ what's causing the tips of her ears to burn. "Not like I'm giving you much of a choice." He states while pressing some buttons on what looks to be a scanner gun – she is struggling too much to care at the moment on what _exactly_ he is doing. "So – who exactly are you supposed to be?" He's not even remotely interested in what she has to say so why he bothers with making fruitless, petty, conversation has he blood boiling.

He's just _tooling_ with her.

"Argent." She says curtly, not quite realizing that she's humored him. _That_ makes him pause, even for just a second – one eye is squinted in confusion as she rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah – I've heard it before. ' _But you're powers are red!_ _'_ _"_ She grunts even more, struggling against the red goo, the stickiness seeping through her shirt and her _skirt_ of all places. Slowly and gradually, she gathers red plasma in her hands, focusing all her effort on trying to liquify the goo completely. She mutters darkly and looks back to him, intending to spot a _weakness,_ something so can gain some upper hand here. She sees nothing that can help her… But something… _clicks_ in her mind when she _really_ sees that skull mask; she's never felt more stupid than in this second. She tries to stifle that small gasp. _Tries._ "Yo-you're… _Red X..."_

And this is enough to make him pause his ministrations. For a brief moment, Argent doesn't know if he's going to say something, and the sudden awkwardness warrants her to want to take even that back. Perhaps he feels _something_ akin to it, as well. "Wow," he drawls out, too seriously and too _intense._ "They actually _told_ you about me. I'm touched." And just like a switch, he goes back to the scanner. _Sarcasm._

She pretends that doesn't elicit disappointment and lets it fuel her indignation instead. Is sarcasm his first language or what? "You're not going to get away with this so easily!"

However, considering the circumstances, Red X doesn't seem at all phased by her obvious threat, or her epiphany. Either he's ignoring her deliberate escapade, or he doesn't very much care. No matter which one it was, both warranted the same conclusion: _He's not taking her seriously._ "That so?" He places a vial of some bright substance into his belt with slight caution, the scanner placed on the opposite side of it. Where it came from or where he'd pulled out from, Argent has absolutely no idea. It takes a few seconds before he's turning around to fully face her. "Seems like I already am. Sterling, was it?"

Her ears go _warm_ from the anger. " _It's Arg—_ You know what? That's what _you_ think!" The plasma seeps through the construct in that moment, and goo comes off everywhere – and right before he can make any other sudden movements, she forms a giant axe and swings it his way. This time, though, she does not come closer, instead, her vision swinging wildly, _vividly_ to see where the guy went. From the corner of her eye, she sees the same black blur rushing away. _Oh, no you don't!_ An intake of air, and soon she is flying after him – this time, she doesn't much care for the various chemicals in the lab. Her attention is driven by whoever this guy is. But when she goes outside, through the more easier route breaking through the window pane with a fury matching with a hurricane – there is no one.

Her heart is pounding, and the cold air is like a slap to the face. She's panting like a rabid dog, and her vision roams wildly, desperate. Panic wants to seep through the cracks, but Argent refuses to let it even cross her sub-conscience. The T-Com rings, and she snaps it open, just from habit alone. Not bothering to give a respond, she doesn't even look at the screen.

" _Argent? Argent! What's going on? We're getting a signal here—"_ she bares her teeth at Robin's voice, not really appreciating his tone, nor the implication.

She utters the following words with steely determination and lively ferocity. "I have it _covered._ I'll tell you the details later. _Argent out." —click._ The little device nearly breaks in her palm, the sturdy material cracking under the weight of her grasp. She looks to her left, eyes landing on nothing but the cluster of stars and the blue hue of the night sky.

Voices, echoes chant in her mind, visually exposing to a path of bright red splotches.

 _.. **.Fol** low **the tr** ail of r **ed...** hu **nt.**.. des **troy..**. fuf **ill y** our d **uty...**_

Argent keeps her eyes on the red, and hurls her body to that direction, letting the flight ease her mind.

She's going to have a few words with this bloke.


	3. talk

**running with wolves (III)  
** _ **talk**_

There's _that_ strange sensation taking over again; she knows it's _there,_ like a lucid dream. But she doesn't exactly process the information. It's raw and unnerving, but Argent doesn't question the circumstances; she just wants the _results._ So when sheer instinct to _hunt_ overtakes her, she doesn't question it; her hands clench and are wrung like fruit rinds in her excitement, in the adrenaline. There's sweat glazing her brow and it's like everything around her blurs along the edges. Argent's feet take the brunt of her brutal landing, ground vibrating with the force she used to keep her position locked and on the defense. She doesn't know _how_ , but she knows that he's _been_ here; eyes are peeled back, vividly taking in every inch of her surroundings, and she's suddenly aware just how humid it is, or how the cold seems to penetrate her skin like icy daggers. Not too far off from the facility; she hadn't been flying too long, less than a minute. He couldn't have gone far. She's no tech-genius at all, but Argent isn't at all stupid. She notices things, _little things._ Surely that darn suit operates on _something._ Teleporting a few meters away didn't equate to teleporting to a whole new location; _he couldn't have gone far._

— _so then_ _ **where**_ _could he have gone?!_

Her frustration seeps through the cracks of her teeth, grinding themselves together as her jaw clenches. The air is utterly cold and, perhaps it's her spontaneous hypersensitivity to _everything_ right now, it's also starting to get _wet._ It smells like mud and grime and _bloody despair._ More out of habit than outright emotion, she rubs her arms thoroughly, to the point where she's close to scratching her chipped nails onto her skin just from the irritation alone. Gravel crunches under her platforms, and she looks behind her to measure the distance she's flown from the warehouse to here: _around 220 meters. Two American football fields._ " _—tch!_ You've got to be _bloody_ kidding me, right now..." She looks towards the horizon, darkened by the midnight hue of the skies above. Perhaps she underestimated the teleportation bit. There's nothing but trees here; the forest. Though not dense by any means, it's still too much for a small-town girl like her. Fingers are twitching, and her nerves are going haywire. This _feeling_ , this blinding _instinct_ refuses to go away, making the hair on her back stand upright and her teeth baring themselves. She tries to ignore that she wants to cover her ears.

She hears them, _in her head!_ Voices… too many voices!

 _ **Hun**_ _t…_ _ **see**_ _k…_ _ **des**_ _tro_ _ **y...**_

She tries to hum out the noise, tries to ignore them, just like she's always done. It doesn't even work _marginally._ "I can _—nngh!—_ find him _myself!_ I don't _need_ help from _them,_ I don't need help from the police, and I _don't_ need help from _you!"_ Ah, if only her father could see her now.

How happy he would be, wouldn't he?

Argent grits her teeth, and she stomps a heavy boot. "For bloody's sake! Where _are_ you, eh?!" And then like a snap of the fingers, the air freezes and everything goes deadly silent. Only the sound of her battering heart ramming into the small confines of her chest ripples through her ear drums; nevermind the sprinkling, or the tree branch cracking, _or the hum of a xenothium tube working through the belt of a suit._ A lone voice echoes through her mind, and her pupils constrict, almost vanishing into the pure red of her irises, and her body stiffens.

 _ **T**_ _urn_ _ **aro**_ _un_ _ **d!**_

Argent heeds that very command, head nearly crackling from her self induced whiplash.

He's crouching on branch, blending in with the leaves; a sight that would have been _hilarious._ Maybe. If she hadn't been so angry. And if he wasn't _watching_ her like some insect.

Argent blinks; a few moments later, her mouth sets into a very grim line. Her fists clench, but she doesn't move quite yet. She can't see too well, the rush of adrenaline and instinct and possibly _power_ having waned considerably after her little outburst. She wonders if he's laughing at her behind that stupid mask, if that narrow of his slits-for-eyes means he's cackling or something. It can't possibly be focus or determination or _studying_. She's fully convinced he sees her as nothing more than a pesky fly.

She has him pegged.

"Lighten up there, Sterling," he holds his hands in mock surrender; Argent hunches forward ever so slightly; she seriously doesn't want this guy to move despite appearances. "All you Titans sure do have a stick up your—"

"It's _Argent,_ and I'm _not_ —" she grinds out, inducing pain to her jaw, but she cuts herself off as soon as she realizes that he's avoided calling her name appropriately rather purposefully. "Whatever. What's your bloody problem, anyway?"

He has the (pseudo?) decency to look _somewhat_ taken aback. Not that the girl believes him for even a second. Slowly, he lowers his hands. And yet, for someone who's donned in nothing but obscurity head to toe, he somehow exudes _a lot_ of emotion. It's unnerving. "I think that should be _my_ line. Didn't know the little band of merry heroes were recruiting _lunatics._ " The word is emphasized, mocking. Like he's about to _chuckle._ Like it's bloody _funny…_

She sucks in a sharp breath at that. _He heard her little outburst._ She clicks her tongue and narrows her eyes, gathering plasma.

"Woah there, girl. _Ease it._ Just poking some fun, no need to get so serious."

"Don't _bloody_ patronize me!"

He doesn't even look remotely bothered by her thinly veiled threat. Amused, if anything. "Just making conversation. _Chill already._ "

That has her _almost_ sputtering; it's enough for her to turn off the plasma and widen her eyes, incredulous at his shameless prodding. She knows he doesn't take her seriously, there's no need to rub it all over her darn face. She shakes her head after a moment, resuming her defensive position. If he's not commencing any sort of attack, then she would do the same and _at the very least defend herself_ ; no need to throw a fit where it isn't needed. "Why _exactly_ should I listen to you?" She has to keep a level head.

"You don't have to do anything."

Well, he's right in that respect. "Had a change of heart?" she spits out venomously, sarcastic. "Going to return what you _stole?_ "

"You're going to have to be more specific there. I've stolen a plethora of things." He says this like he's _bragging;_ like he's utterly _proud_ and wants a golden star or something. Argent voices this thought to him. "What? From _you?_ Not exactly sure if I'm into goth chicks, but I'm sure we can work _something_ _—"_

She wants to punch him _right in his stupid mug;_ she's still on the defensive though, and she's much too cautious to fully trust him to move forward. Actually, now come to think of it… "Well?"

Red X seems _quite_ confused; as much as a costumed hyper-thief can _look_ anyway. "… Well what? You want to do it now?"

She ignores the heat of her cheeks and the sheer _gross_ indignation that wells up in her throat. Argent summons a _very_ deep growl. "Don't… don't _'well what'_ me!" she ignores his light scoff and his _rude_ commentary _—wow. Okay mother—_ "Why are you just _standing_ there?! Why aren't you attacking or running away, eh?!" She expects him to falter, to pause, to do… _something._

Not respond with: "Why aren't you attacking _me_ is the real question here, sterling."

It's _her_ that is left like the bumbling fool, blinking and mouth slightly agape as she glances down to her fists, as if questioning _why_ there isn't any plasma bleeding through. She looks to thief, like student who doesn't know the answer to the mathematics question. Waiting for a _—aha! I'm joking!—_ or a _—PSYCH!—_ or just _something_ from him that's never coming, Argent sheepishly rubs her fingers, offering nothing more than a terse, jerky shrug. "I… ah…. I was _going_ to… but you just— you just wouldn't stop _talking_ and—"

"Ahh," he says, fingers tapping to his chin as he looks almost wistfully to the side, "… putting the blame on the thief for not doing your job. I understand."

" _That's_ _ **not**_ _what I—!_ I just… _I just—_ I have _standards_ you know!" She's not going to go on a bloody rampage for a _thief_ of all things! What nonsense is he dribbling?

"Mm. Right. Standards you and your lot—" he does a gesture with his hand as if waving off a pesky insect, "will gladly chuck away when it's convenient. Just like what you were about to do a couple of minutes ago."

 _Where the bloody heck did_ _ **that**_ _come from?_ "Is there a _point_ to this?" she grits through her teeth, jaw clenched again.

"I don't know; why don't you tell me?" He's just making fruitless conversation as it seems. "I'm just pointing out what you did no less than a few moments ago. Doesn't exactly look good on your end to preach on that ungodly high soapbox of yours."

 _All I said was bloody 'standards'! One word, and now he's on some… some…_ _ **self appointed**_ _lecture?_ She doesn't know what this guy is _on_ , where he's coming from, where he's going, or where he even wants to end up. She's at a total loss, and frankly, she doesn't know how to _begin._ But her anger and irritation, unlike the _voices,_ do not subside. If anything, she's more defensive, and her stance reflects that; hunched shoulders, planted feet, grit teeth, a shadow looming over her eyes like death. "So it _that_ what this is? Are we really discussing _morale_ here?! Are you _that_ much of a sore loser that you can't even _face up_ to what you've done? _Just because you've been caught?!_ _"_ Is this guy for real? "You _really_ shouldn't _preach_ to me about preaching; don't dish out what you can't even _begin_ to understand, X."

"Oooh; getting _personal_ are we? Did my words rub you the wrong way? Are you easily _that_ triggered, sterling? _Relax_ _," —and wait,_ _ **what?**_ "You take life _way_ too seriously; I swear, if it isn't _one_ hero, it's the whole _bunch_ of them," he shakes his head; none of that hostility reflecting onto his gestures or tone. It's _baffling_. Is he really just… _tooling_ with her? "Robin's uptight moral compass is _barely_ something I can stand to hear, but now _this—"_

At the mention of Robin, her eyes narrow. "What _about_ Robin? What? Your little magic tricks aren't enough to impress the _best?_ "

And, at this, Red X begins to _laugh._


End file.
